|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Feb 25, 2012 9:32:55 GMT
Terragon pushes an empty glass moodily across the table, listening to it grate against the grain of the scuffed and splintered wood. Ashnel watches, wearily, before turning his gaze to the rest of the near empty room. "What happened to this place?" Terragon glances at him, her forehead furrowed in a frown. "Rhetorical question," Ashnel answers, hastily. "Small town -" Terragon begins. "No security," they finish together. "Though no sign of any attacks in the surrounding area. No news at all really," Ashnel muses, mostly to himself. "Still, creatures feel safer at places like Redwall and Salamandastron where they can be protected. Terralux just doesn't have as many warriors as it used to. We're little more than a failing en route trading post," Terragon mutters, as she has countless times before. Ashnel doesn't reply but stares past Terragon's shoulder, eyes fixed with half-interest on the opening door of the Tavern. "Company." Misery loves it.
|
|
|
Post by Tinsy Stormsight on Feb 25, 2012 21:51:04 GMT
"sh*t on this," the squirrel muttered, shoving open the old Tavern door against the wind. It was cold, and snowy, and he was not only not at home in his newly refurbished manor house but he was instead wandering around looking for a drink. It seemed that Redwall Abbey didn't want to trade him some ale for a couple bales of silk. Regen had, after all, bought them straight from his brother, and who knew where Lonas had gotten them - but the point remained, it was good silk. There was no reason for those monks to turn up their noses just because he had his own armory. None at all. As if he'd ever attack an Abbey anyway; the political ramifications would be ridiculous. The court back home would not look kindly on one of their ambassadors (even one who worked on a tiny island off of Scotland, far out of the public eye and ken)...would not look kindly on him if he attacked a church. Anyway, he supposed, it was time to pay a visit to the old settlement regardless. He stopped, of course, at the Tavern first..primarily because the lights were on inside..and glanced around. He'd really expected, say, Rippla. Apparently the weasel was still off to the Crusades or something, because he was missing. Maybe he was dead. This was entirely possible. Lonas of course was not in, but Regen expected that. Lonas had been in Spain for some months now, trying to get Regen's wife to talk to him again. That whole thing was an entirely different mess which the golden squirrel didn't care to contemplate at the moment. There were still two other squirrels at the bar, however, both of whom Regen knew quite well. One black, the other red, both looking much better than he felt. Then again, Regen was getting old. He'd seen some grey in his tail recently, and some of the old wounds were more bothersome than usual. The one in his leg came immediately to mind. He stomped across the room anyway, headed toward the bar, brown eyes cheerful. No reason to be upset tonight, with the wars leaving them alone, no matter how many people refused to trade silk for a basic good. He had a few Copperlin crowns on him, if he recalled, and last he was here the bar still took them.. A bright smile flickered across his face briefly. He stopped, cleared his throat, and recited with as much dignity as he could manage: "Fire is needed by the newcomer Whose knees are frozen numb; Meat and clean linen a man needs Who has fared across the fells,
Water, too, that he may wash before eating, Handcloths and a hearty welcome, Courteous words, then courteous silence That he may tell his tale."
[/blockquote]
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Feb 26, 2012 8:46:15 GMT
"I think the best you're going to get is the water trough outside," Ashnel answers dryly with a nod at the surly expression on the bartender dormouse's face. Something about the mouse's demeanour seems to suggest that he is doing his utmost to ignore the newcomer to his tavern. "Barfoot!" Terragon says loudly. The dormouse continues to ignore the group, cleaning an already sparkling glass. "Barfoot," the red squirrel hisses. "Customer!" The dormouse looks up slowly. "Well s'long as 'e knows tha' the Whisperin' Willow's no charity..." he retorts grumpily as he shuffles out from behind the bar towards the group, muttering to himself still. Terragon is convinced she hears the name 'Lonas' followed by a word or two more that more refined company might rather not overhear. "What d'you want then?" Barfoot demands of Regen. OOC: Spent far too much time trying to choose a name for the dormouse here heraldry.sca.org/laurel/names/brasses/lastnameAB.html before deciding on the rather appropriate Barfoot. Fantastic name database.
|
|
|
Post by Tinsy Stormsight on Feb 26, 2012 17:56:47 GMT
Regen frowned slightly, trying to hear what the mouse was saying. Something about Lonas? That couldn't be right. Lonas hadn't been in Mossflower in at least three months, as far as he knew. At least Regen hoped not. It would seem that his own brother and best friend would probably stop by if he just happened to be in town. Well, so long as everything was well at home, of course..Regen did expect his brother to see his own wife over himself. Not to mention Regen's horde of nephews. But there it was. Nevertheless.. It used to be that he and his brother could get some respect around this place. Maybe it was the fact that the village wasn't under attack anymore (and that, in fact, was a result of Riverside Manor and Regen's armory being so close). Or maybe it was just because Rippla wasn't frowning over his shoulder anymore. Heh. "Wine," the squirrel states, somewhat less politely than before. "Bread, cheese." A coin is dug up from his pocket, silver, with the star of Copperlin on one side. Regen drops it on the bar, frowns darkly at the dormouse, and settles into a stool. "No more polite than before, are they? But the village looks nice without the gypsies and mercenaries, I think." Lacking, the Spaniard knew, because the mercenaries were in his employ and the gypsies he generally retained as extra warriors. One never knew around here. Certainly Tervin Blackstar, for some reason, was rather fond of the ex-soldier and had no intent of attacking him. Although that might have something to do with the large, rich family who were frowning over his shoulder these days. "Used to be this place was crowded with all sorts of lowlifes. Guess they moved out." To his personal guard and Raymond's pair of 'merchant' ships, of course.
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Feb 26, 2012 18:45:24 GMT
Barfoot scoops up the coin and shuffles away once more, muttering still. "Well, Ashnel's still here," Terragon retorts with a smirk. She looks down at the glass in front of her again, half frowning at realising she'd forgotten to ask the bartender for another and half at some vague memory invoked by Regen's mention of mercenaries and gypsies. Ashnel responds to the jibe with a crooked smile. "Good to see you, Regen, this place needed something to happen to it." "All he's done is walk through the door, Ashnel," Terragon replies with a small laugh. "Forgive me, Regen," she adds to the other squirrel. "Most interesting thing that's happened all season," Ashnel insists darkly.
|
|
|
Post by Tinsy Stormsight on Feb 26, 2012 20:34:48 GMT
"Well," and the squirrel smiles slightly, tapping a claw on the bar, "There is something. Look here," He pauses, retrieving the wine..a rich, dark red drink, which he glances at curiously..from the bartender mouse. Regen wondered vaguely who was supplying drinks here nowadays, with Raymond in Spain and Rippla off fighting the Moors. This appeared a decent wine, although he held off on it until his food arrived. It was a long walk from Riverside, even if he had brought enough of his bodyguards along to keep themselves from being unfortunately delayed by highwaymen. Not that there were many of those around of late, either. Say what you like of King Tervin Blackstar..Regen had never seen the woods of Mossflower as safe before as they were now, with the king in his full power and turning eyes northwards. "..As y' both know, I am Spain's official representative to Mossflower country." He paused. "Or maybe y'don't. Anyhow, I am. This bein' the reason that I married Amy Stibren at all, and, also, the reason that the aforementioned she-wolf refuses to speak to me." Amy, of course, had her own..interests..back in Spain, which Regen was perfectly fine with, so long as she avoided dragging dirt all over his own name. Which had happened. That being the reason Raymond had gone back to rectify the situation. Which had not happened, so much. He laughed.
"My wife has another man back in Spain, as I knew when I married her. However, the family is not fine with this, as I am, and now I'm to fight in the lists with this squirrel in order to solve once and for all who deserves to be married to the witch." He paused. "The duel to be held at a tournament." The squirrel decided it was best to drink the wine now, reminding himself very strongly of Lonas, and wished that he hadn't left Tomin at home, or, better yet, that Rippla was there.. "The tournament to be held here." The Spaniard stared across at Terragon, more than Ashnel, waiting for the inevitable reaction..
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Feb 27, 2012 19:36:17 GMT
Ashnel gives a bark of laughter which is quickly silenced by a withering look from Terragon. She gazes at Regen, another frown creasing her face.
"Well, I suppose it'll bring newbeasts to the village and trade with them," she says evenly after a moment. "Regen, you know the working of such things far better than I, no doubt, but I presume those who take part will be... aristocrats, creatures with entourages. It'll be good for the village..." She appears to falter and frowns again, looking away and then back at Regen. "Oh Hell's teeth," she adds suddenly. "Nevermind the trade or anything else - are you going to be alright, Regen?"
It's not that she doubts the other's fighting ability - quite the opposite - but Terragon, though well versed in the laws and etiquettes of Mossflower, knows precious little about the customs of the lands that lie beyond. Even if Regen were to win, might there not be some hired killer waiting in the wings for him? It was beginning to become a fashion amongst the roving players that sometimes, though less frequently these days, passed through the village to set their dramas in hot-blooded Italy or Spain in the midst of some gruesome fight for honour or revenge or.... The tales the players told were fabrications, no doubt, but still it made one uneasy to think of Regen cast as a reluctant player in such a grisly stageplay.
"He'll be fine," Ashnel insists solidly, though at Terragon's sharp look he fears that too much of his enthusiasm at the prospect of a tournament has crept into his voice.
|
|
|
Post by Tinsy Stormsight on Feb 27, 2012 22:12:06 GMT
The golden squirrel paused a moment, rather more pleased with this reaction. He'd expected some kind of angry debate over whether the scenery would survive his family, not to mention his wife, not to mention his wife's..lover (unlikely, when he though about it. There were few families more destructive than the Eales of the Arkains and the Stibrens of the Catalan mountains, especially when together.) And as for his own well-being.. "What will happen will happen," he replied, smiling slightly. "The other bravo is named Altaire Tenorio Villegas; my sources say he is a fencer from Madrid, and I think, Ashnel, that you and he would get along well. He is of course much younger than I am, and therefere, I would note, far too young for Amy, but he seems a decent sort." Regen stopped, smiled again, a little bitterly, and decided to move on. He really, he told himself, couldn't care less about what she got up to in her spare time. It wasn't as if she had to make money and fend off bandits in the wild nothern countries or anything. This Villegas, however.. "I will be pleasantly suprised if he and I actually end up fighting each other. If we do, perhaps it will not turn out so well for myself, but my family has no desire to see me dead." If Villegas survived long enough to make it all the way to Terralux, Regen would be suprised. Or horribly shocked, more like. Corin Eale did not mess around, especially where his family's honor and profits were concerned. Having Regen's heir be a bastard son of a nameless swordsman would not look very good on his oldest brother. But he was fairly certain that Terragon could figure out all of this information for herself, with some thought. There was no reason to say it out loud in the middle of a Tavern, even if Regen would have liked to.
"And as for Amy," he noted after a moment, "If my family's say in the matter comes out on top, which it doubtless will, with Corin and Amber on the case, she will be staying here." He shifted uncomfortably, paying rather too much attention to his wine for a moment. Not that he didn't want Amy living at Riverside, but she was not so fond of him as she once was. When he'd been younger, an honored son of the Eale family, and she'd been a mysterious beauty who lived in the big city..well, that had been different. These days, it would hardy be an entertaining intrigue, as it had been once upon a time. Regen decided to get to business, before Terragon had a chance to ask too many more questions. "Ashnel, you'll be my second?" He looked up, grinned with some false humor. "Rippla, of course, is likely dead or married to a Moor and off raising children.." (unlikely, but an amusing thought) "..and Lonas, well..you understand." His brother's lack of fighting ability was no secret.
OOC: realized I have, in the past, been ignoring/glossing over most of Regen's early history; also, that I never delivered a concrete reason for why the Stibren family hates him/his brothers. So why not some secret relationships? Regen and Amy, Corin and Amber. Something must be going on.
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Feb 27, 2012 23:00:13 GMT
"Of course," Ashnel answers with a grin as though there'd be no question in his mind about it. He stops himself from adding, "And the best of fortune to Rippla wherever he may... lie." Even if Regen himself weren't to object to the tasteless double meaning in his comment, there's a strong possible that Terragon would disapprove at his lack of tact. The red squirrel appears not to have noticed Ashnel's brief internal struggle as she leans across the table to ask Regen seriously: "What do we need to do to prepare this place for a tournament? I'm willing to follow your advice here."
She'd seen tournaments, of a sort, before in the village she and Robin had grown up in. There'd been displays of swordsmanship at the carnivals in the summer and, wandering through Mossflower with Ashnel some seven years previously (Seven years? Surely not...), she'd witnessed competitions between mercenaries bored by times of peace and once, at midnight in a roadside tavern, a duel between two drunken, spitting wildcats. But a tournament? The closest the settlement has ever come to such a thing was the friendly competitions between friends armed with wooden or blunted swords in the guilds. The idea of such an event intrigues Terragon to the point where she forgets to worry about the scale of such an event in so deserted a place and a smile, rare in these recent weeks, hovers about her mouth as she awaits Regen's reply.
OOC: Why not, indeed? Always the best literary response to a plot issue!
Ha, rereading my last message has made me painfully aware of quite how much Renaissance drama is swamping my life at the moment. Apologies for all the dramatical allusions.
|
|
|
Post by Tinsy Stormsight on Feb 27, 2012 23:47:10 GMT
This, he had to think about. The village was a long way from anywhere. Really, the only reason Regen had offered it to his family as an idyllic, sheltered place to hold a tournament of this nature was because he at least could trust that Terragon and Ashnel wouldn't be bought out by the Stibrens and be persuaded to, say, cause his roof to fall down on his sleeping head. And also, really, as a favor to them. Terralux had been a much-needed step to Regen's current respectability; he felt he owed it a gesture of some kind. Obviously trade would skyrocket if a battle was held here. The locals would all come around, and Tervin Blackstar would likely take note, as well. And then, Regen though with some amusement, maybe he'd finally be able to get some damn Redwall Abbey wines in his cellar. "Well," he replied, with characteristic slowness, and somewhat less characteristic thought, "Normally I'd refer ye to Lonas for this discussion. I am not so good at this kind of thing. But with the number of people that will be arriving..at the very least, parts of my own family, and probably the local dignitaries and their knights - if they have any sense - and, well, the Stibrens..I would hope you have several pleasantly rustic, but not too hovel-ish, places for them to live." "Also Altaire Villegas' family, if he even has one," the squirrel added as an afterthought. "And there will be food, and a field to be set up, and..well, everything else." Regen frowned thoughtfully, and not too happily. He was far better at organizing fortifications than he was parties. His wooden walls and stake-filled ditches were works of art. Figuring out how to keep a hundred or so guests happy in a backwoods trading village..that would be, at best, less precise. But at least he ran less chance of finding a dagger or a crossbow bolt, or, of late, a lead ball, in his back. He needed a seneschal. He needed a bodyguard. He wished for Lonas and Rippla again, not for the first time that night. Probably not for the last either.
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Feb 28, 2012 23:17:33 GMT
"The meadow beyond the lake," Terragon offers at once in response to the latter of Regen's requests. She ponders over the first for a moment longer. "There's plenty of unoccupied treehouses around the settlement but it's far too easy to access neighbouring houses from them, even if the ladders are rolled up - most of them are connected by walkways and even if they aren't, it'd be no challenge for a good climber to scramble across through the canopy. I'm not saying I mistrust anybeast," she adds swiftly. "But I imagine that in this instance, the less potential for foul play to take place, the better."
Ashnel dips his head slightly in agreement but struggles to think of anywhere better to house Terralux's aristocratic guests. Despite the season, there's been little sign of rain in months and the water in the lake is already strikingly depleted. Warmer weather is fast approaching and keeping houseboats afloat in the shallow water will soon become something of a challenge.
"Tavern's out of the question too, I presume," he mutters with a nod at a dusty cobweb strung from a rafter above them.
"The chapel?" Terragon suggests uneasily. "It's simple there, but clean enough and not too -" The squirrel pauses and rolls her eyes at the word, acknowledging the truth in it. "Hovel-ish. If not, some of the cottages in the woods or the town houses in the square will have to do. What d'you think?"
|
|
|
Post by Robin Redflash on Mar 5, 2012 20:29:45 GMT
Robin trudges along the path. It had been a long, long time since she walked down it. Sometimes she had thought she never would again. It had been that long. She almost felt old now. Old enough anyways. She looks around slowly. This place has definitely changed. There are less creatures about for one thing. She wonders if anyone will recognize her. A more chilling thought quickly replaces that one. She wonders if anyone will even remember her. She hopes that Terragon is there, at least then there is a fifty fifty chance she will be known. The ground crunches under her steady steps. Shifting her large, heavy pack from one shoulder to the other she carries on down the road. The red squirrel herself hasn't changed much in the time that has passed. Still wears the same clothes, even if they are a little more ragged by some feat of nature, and the colours worn down to a darker green. The short tunic and trousers are patched, yes, and faded. Robin still bears her headband with pride though, well habit at the very least. A cloak is wrapped tightly around her form to try in vain to keep out some of the cold. She tells herself that it is working wonderfully and she can't feel a thing, which is true. Eventually Robin's even steps reach the outside of the tavern. If she knows anything then this squirrel knows the most likely place to find her fellow creatures at this time of day. At least if they are still as she remembers them she does. Taking a deep breath and breathing out mist Robin shifts her bulging pack once more and lifts her paw to the door. Savouring the old, splintering woodwork for one second she pauses. Robin pushes the door open, enters, turns around closing the door behind her and faces forward. Seeing the creatures at the bar she stops, waiting. "Hello"
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Mar 5, 2012 21:21:43 GMT
Terragon did not glance at the sound of the tavern door opening but the familiarity of the newcomer's voice causes her to flick her gaze sharply towards the front of the room. Her eyes remain fixed on the other squirrel in the doorway but she remains seated, inspecting her with a faint smile. The other squirrel looks unmistakably and reassuringly the same, even if her attire is somewhat marked by travel.
"Well about time," she answers dryly. "Come in and close the door, for Martin's sake. Anybeast would think you'd be raised in a tent by savages."
Ashnel smirks at Terragon's comment but leaps quickly to his footpaws and gestures to his vacated chair as he drags a spare one from a neighbouring table.
"There's going to be a tournament and it's fantastic to see you," he says by way of greeting.
|
|
|
Post by Robin Redflash on Mar 5, 2012 21:49:37 GMT
Robin raises her eyes to see Terragon and Ashnel. Both of them at the bar, as always. A smile spreads slowly across her face. She laughs lightly at Terragon's words. Just the welcome back she expected. Sighing the squirrel gratefully accepts the chair from Ashnel. She sits down heavily and lets her pack fall to the floor with a dull thump.
"When did Ashnel get so polite Terragon? It seems as if your bad influence has almost worn off completely."
Then her brain kicks in to stop her missing the obvious.
"A tournament? Here? What's the occasion? And how on earth are you going to manage that?"
She looks around the old place. The dust, the splintering bar, none look in the best of shape to her. A tournament in this place could be tricky.
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Mar 17, 2012 8:40:37 GMT
"With a lot of planning," Terragon answers. Perhaps not the most thrilling of responses, but the truth. "Regen," she continues, turning back to the other squirrel. "What else do I need to know?" She`d intended to ask if there was anything more she needed to know, but no doubt there is. Such things were never simple, like everything else these days. Terragon`s loath to ignore Robin and feels a sudden, shockingly strong twinge of guilt at her behaviour (heartless, no doubt). Ashnel meanwhile merely smirks at Robin`s comment and takes the liberty of reaching across to try and ruffle the ears of the slightly younger squirrel. The only true way, no doubt, he could possibly welcome the other home. OOC: Apologies for slightly dodgey typing. Got French-Canadian keyboard settings on the laptop at the moment and am not entirely sure where the apostrophe has hidden itself.
|
|